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• Review | Up in the Air (PG-13) ****
• Trailer & movie times for 'Up in the Air'

Review | Up in the Air (PG-13) ****

``You have to try not to take this personally,'' Ryan Bingham (George Clooney) is fond of saying when he's doing his job: Informing people that their position at their company ``is no longer available.'' Ryan is smooth and calm and better than anyone at his job. He is sympathetic but detached, kind but firm, sensitive but blunt. He is a corporate cleaner, a guy bosses call in to do what they can't -- tell their longtime, faithful, hardworking employees that they are being laid off.

This line of work requires a special sort of person, and Ryan was born for the job. To say he has no feelings would be unfair: He does have them, of course. He's just learned to neglect them until they barely exist. Up in the Air is the story of a person who has fooled himself into believing that he has no emotional needs -- he'd beg to differ with that ``no man is an island'' bit -- and has invested his energy into more tangible, less complicated goals.

For example, Ryan is obsessed with achieving what only six people

`Up in the Air': making an airport ready for its close-up

It takes an army to make a movie, hundreds of cast members and extras, miles of cable, tanker trucks of coffee . . . lights, cameras, cranes.

Now try getting that all past the Transportation Security Administration, as the filmmakers did for Up in the Air , the new release about a love affair with flying, in theaters nationwide on Christmas Day.

``The hardest part, by far, was crowd control,'' says director Jason Reitman. ``It'd be going OK, and then everyone would stop to try to get a look at George Clooney.''

Up in the air in welfare state

``L ast year,'' Ryan Bingham says, ``I spent 322 days on the road, which means that I had to spend 43 miserable days at home.'' Home is an Omaha rental unit less furnished than a hotel room. He likes it that way.

Today he is where he feels at home, in an airport -- glass walls and glistening steel, synthetic sincerity and antiseptic hospitality. Today he is showing Natalie, a ferocious young colleague, how an expert road warrior deals with lines at security screening:

Avoid, he says, getting behind travelers with infants (``I've never seen a stroller collapse in less than 20 minutes''). Or behind elderly people (``Their bodies are littered with hidden metal and they never seem to appreciate how little time they have left on earth''). Do get behind Asians: ``They're light packers, treasure efficiency, and have a thing for slip-on shoes.''

Review | The Men Who Stare at Goats (R) **

``More of this is true than you would believe,'' warns a title card at the start of The Men Who Stare at Goats , although the ever-reliable ``I know this sounds crazy, but . . .'' would have worked just as well.

Based on the nonfiction book by Jon Ronson, whose website describes him as a journalist and a humorist, the movie claims that the U.S. military developed a secret cadre in the 1980s code-named ``Jedi warriors'' (Ronald Reagan sure loved Star Wars ). The soldiers were trained to hone their psychic and paranormal skills in order to read minds, walk through walls and turn invisible when caught in a tight squeeze.

``We will be the first superpower to develop superpowers!'' exclaims Bill Django (Jeff Bridges), the lieutenant in charge of this ``New Earth Army.'' Django is a Vietnam veteran who was wounded in battle, returned home, disappeared for six years into the New Age demimonde -- lots of nudist beaches, communal hot tubs and LSD parties -- and emerged convinced that peace and love, not

What we're checking out this week

DRINK

Christian Louboutin has teamed with Piper-Heidsieck to reinvent a scandalous ritual. The French shoe designer breathes new life into a legend born at the Bolshoi Ballet in the 1880s, when ballerinas served champagne to gentlemen spectators from their slippers. He's created a handmade crystal stiletto flute with his signature red heel. So decadent. $500 (includes bottle of Cuvée Brut) at Neiman Marcus, www.le-rituel.com.